With a Little Help from Plato
by mrs.vienna
Summary: a much earlier reconciliation


**Part I: Margaret**

Margaret stared at the closed door. Mere minutes had passed since he had left her alone in the parlour of her home. They had quarrelled. No, that was not the right description. They had fought. And now she was standing there like a statue, frozen, numb, and utterly devastated. When he angrily stormed away without a look back at her, she felt forlorn and could not quite understand what has happened. All she knew was that there was a cutting ache in her left breast she had never felt before.

After the fateful events of yesterday, the riot and her urging that he had to stand before his workers and talk to them, the situation had disintegrated into chaos. When she grasped that John Thornton was in real danger because of her naive estimation, she had shielded him with her own body and clung to him to protect him from harm without a second thought. After all she was responsible for his being in this dangerous situation. That there were consequences to her reputation did not reach her mind at that moment, but her bold action was seen by more than hundred people and gossip was spreading quickly through Milton.

This morning John Thornton had come to request a private conversation with her. She knew already when he crossed the threshold of the house that he would propose to her to do the right thing. She did not want to be forced to marry him to protect her reputation. She would only marry for the deepest love, and she did not love John Thornton. Therefore she would refuse his offer.

Her temper was already at a boiling point before she entered the parlour where he was waiting for her arrival. If he thought he could possess her as a beautiful ornament attached to his arm then he was mistaken. She would not sacrifice her life for her reputation; she would hold her head high and face all the gossip of the Milton society until the rumours ended. It would fade into obscurity when another scandal overshadowed this one. She would not surrender to him. She heard his proposal as though from a distance and answered it with all her fury without really comprehending what he said. Then it was over and she was standing there alone.

The moment he went away was the same moment her anger disappeared abruptly. Afterwards she relived the whole incident again and again and recalled sentences he had uttered. She began to think over what he had said during their dispute.

He said he want to marry her because he loved her and did not wish to possess her; his feelings were very strong and he had not thought about her reputation. His declaration was made in a highly emotional manner. His voice had trembled, and he had searched for the right words. He said actually 'it is difficult to find the right words' at the beginning. He looked like he tried to hide his nervousness. After her harsh words he seemed offended and angry. His face had been grave, heartfelt pain shining in his eyes.

With the benefit of hindsight she recognized that she had hurt him deeply. Furthermore he had said she did not understand him. It dawned on her that he was correct. Completely trapped in her anger and prejudice against him, she had not noticed that he told her the truth. His love for her was pure. Bit by bit her mind came clear, and out of the dark she knew she had not known her heart before. This insight came like a bolt from the blue. From this moment on she accepted the pain in her breast for was it was, a gaping emptiness where her heart should be.

John Thornton had taken her heart with him when he left. Unknowingly she had loved him all along. She had been blinded by her pride and her prejudices against him. As a result she was shattered.

Slowly she sat down at the table, and tears began to flow. What had she done? She had sacrificed her life, her love, and additionally his love, too. A stupid girl she was. With tear-dimmed eyes she saw his leather gloves laying at the table. She took them and buried her face in them. She could smell his intoxicating scent and felt comforted as if he embraced her. Finally she pulled herself together; she was not a woman prone to self-pity. The next time Mr. Thornton came for a lesson with her father she would return his gloves. On that occasion she would explain to him all she had learned about herself. She would try to win him back, and by the grace of God she would succeed.

The following days she lived in a trance. Her mental preoccupation was obvious to the whole household, but no one said anything to her. Her mother was too ill to speak at length. Her father was too worried about her mother, and Dixon was too busy to run the household.

Every evening in her bedchamber Margaret sought comfort from his leather gloves. The gloves were well-worn, and the leather a little hard and cracked outside. She assumed this was the result of rain. But inside they were warm and the leather was as soft as butter. Margaret mused the gloves were like Mr. Thornton. Beneath that rough exterior beat a heart of gold. In the last days Margaret had frequently thought about Mr. Thornton, each encounter with him relived, and all his good character traits discovered once she had dropped all her prejudices and dislikes of him. Now she could see him as he was: the best man of all her acquaintances. He was responsible, amiably, gracious, gentle, kind, and loveable. Beyond that he was not resentful, but rather forgiving. More than once they had argued, and yet the next time they met he was always kind to her. He was a valued friend of her father. She always had a high esteem of her father's ability to judge character. The icing on the cake was his handsome features and his muscular build. He was tall, with dark hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders, slim but very well-built as far as she could see. Now and then she slept with his gloves in her hands, and her dreams included often Mr. Thornton's person.

At last the most urgently expected day was there and Margaret awaited Mr. Thornton with high-strung excitement, but all in vain. He did not come. Instead of his visit Mr. Thornton sent a note apologising for his absence due to urgent business appointments. Margaret was more disappointed than her father. All her hopes had come to nothing. She feared he was avoiding her, and she could not blame him for that. In the evening she took his gloves to comfort her as usual Suddenly she hit on an idea. She went to her desk to write a letter.

**Part II: John**

John rushed through the streets of Milton. Only minutes had passed since he had left her alone in the parlour of her home. They had argued, or better to say they had battled. They always seem to battle about everything, even a hand shake. Margaret detested their northern ways, and she had conceived an abhorrence for him. That much was clear after her spiteful refusal of his proposal. Now he was fleeing from her. While he was heading home he sensed nothing, he saw nothing. He did not notice the greetings he received from acquaintances like Mr. Bell, nor was he aware of his journey home. He was like a ghost, an empty shell.

After the fateful events of yesterday, Margaret Hale's bold action rescuing him from the rioters, the stone thrown at them, her head injury caused by the workers' violence, and her subsequent swoon in his arms, he was emotionally overwrought. In his whole life John had never been so scared as in the moment he thought she was dead. His heart had missed several beats. It had been as if his meaning of life was gone. He had been even more scared than all these years back after the suicide of his father, when suddenly he had become responsible for his mother and sister. In that instant he recognized that he loved Margaret Hale more than his own life. The next few minutes seemed nebulous. He had no specific recollection, he only knew that he had faced the mob, and had said something like "kill me." The next clear memory he had of his feelings was his immense relief when his mother told him that Margaret was alive and had only a minor injury. He had been alarmed that they had let her go home. His disapproval and disappointment could be clearly read on his face. He had wanted to go immediately to her, but his mother stopped him. She had begged him not to go, so he had acquiesced and given his word not to go. In the evening John Thornton had taken a long walk to clear his mind, to be sure of his feelings as well as to consider his next step.

Upon his return he had had another conversation with his mother. She was convinced Miss Hale harboured an affection for him, but he did not dare to agree with her wholeheartedly. He could not ignore his apprehension that she did not care for him. After all she was too good for him. Despite of his worries he could no longer be silent. He could not repress his feelings anymore; it was tearing him apart. He had to ask her to be his wife. His mother knew he would propose marriage to Margaret that morning. John had no illusions about the attitude and opinion of his mother towards Margaret, but she was willing to accept her for his sake. She was even willing to learn to love Margaret as her daughter-in-law.

That morning John Thornton had gone with the purpose to speak to Margaret about marriage. His heart was fearful, half agony, half hope. After a sleepless night he would finally make his offer of marriage, and the uncertainty would end, so he had thought. He had waited in the parlour for Margaret, while his nervousness had increased and become almost unbearable until she had come at last.

She had been so beautiful, had looked so angelic. His voice had trembled as he had spoken. But everything had been different from his hopes. They had already quarrelled before he had confessed his feelings to her. She had said he was unreasonable. At the beginning of his proposal she had stopped him and had him accused of not speaking as a gentleman would. But that was far from the worst. She had also said he wanted to possess her, and she had not expected otherwise from someone in trade. She had found his feelings for her, his love, offensive. Her statement that she did not like him and never had, had been like a knife turning in his heart. He had said she did not understand him, but he had understood her completely. The rest had been a blur until he had left her angrily.

The moment in which he had stood alone in front of her home was the same moment in which his anger had disappeared and been replaced by a numbness.

John did not know how he returned home, when he entered his house. All he knew was that he could not face his mother yet. His numbness gave way slowly to an unimaginable pain. He was afraid of disgracing himself in front of her, to reveal his frame of mind, to break down in tears. Therefore he went quietly to his study to be alone. He had to cope with his pain alone at first without enduring his mother's pointed remarks in the direction of Miss Hale.

In his study he locked the door and sat down behind his desk. As soon as tears began to blur his vision, he wiped them away, but the flow of tears was ceaseless. In the end he covered his face with his hands and cried softly. He could not remember when he had wept last, at least not as an adult. It was freeing. After a while he pulled himself together, stood up and went to wash his face wiping away the traces of his tears. The rest of the day he tried to hide his emotions behind an impenetrable mask of indifference. It took all the effort he could muster. To distract himself, John went to the mill. There was a lot to do to get the business up and running again after the strike.

At dinner he told his mother that Miss Hale had refused him. He had been right that she did not care for him. He endured the snide remarks of his mother abusing Miss Hale bravely with a stoic expression. As he was no longer able to tolerate his mother's comments, he said he thought of Margaret Hale more than ever, and begged his mother never to talk of Miss Hale again. After that he turned the conversation to the business.

The following days he lived in a cocoon of business dealings, and tried to return to his usual daily routine. He felt more than once the eyes of his mother on him, but she restrained herself from speaking to him about his situation, as he had requested. Fanny did not even notice his strange behaviour. Thankfully it spared him her pity.

But the nights were bad. He could not sleep, because he relived their last meeting over and over again. The whole time he thought how he could escape his feelings for her. His love had not vanished despite her hurtful accusations. He struggled each night to obtain some peace once more. It was only in the early morning hours that he fell into a restless sleep. He dreamt of her merciless, for not all his dreams were good ones. Sometimes he dreamt of a happy future with her as his wife beside him. Sometimes the dream changed at some point, and he lost her, sometimes waking with tear-filled eyes. Sometimes he moved through a nightmare whilst Margaret pursued him hateful. In the morning he was utterly exhausted. One morning his bed looked as if he had fought a wrestling match, and he had to disentangle himself from the sheets. After one of these nights he tried to drink himself into a stupor the next evening, but that was not a good idea as he awoke the next morning with a bad hangover.

After a few days his mother observed his restlessness. She began to worry, but she could not help John overcome his unrequited love. She would give her life's blood to see him happy again. She would do whatever was necessary to achieve his happiness, even if it meant having Margaret Hale in their lives. If her son could win the heart of this headstrong girl in the end, she could overcome her dislike of her, she vowed.

The day of his weekly lesson with Mr. Hale drew closer and closer, and at last the day was there. John did not have the strength to meet Miss Hale. Therefore he sent a note apologising due to business reasons. It was not necessarily an excuse, because the recent strike had caused him some business concerns. He had to delay the delivery of one order and had lost a few orders outright. His financial position was at risk.

**Part III: The letter**

The next morning John Thornton went over his account books, going through the numbers again. Unfortunately he had not slept well the previous night. Thus he could not concentrate on the task at hand. More than once his thoughts wandered to Miss Hale, who haunted him everywhere. He reproached himself. Why had he been such a coward? Sooner or later he would meet Miss Hale most certainly; there was no way out. On the one hand he longed to see her, but on the other hand he dreaded an unhappy meeting. It would have been better to have never met her. His heart pained as well as directly after her rejection, no weakening of his heartache was in sight. He felt her absence in his life whenever he thought of her, and that happened all the time. Could one die of a broken heart? He gradually began to believe in it!

The knock at his office door was a welcome diversion. To his surprise his overseer, Williams, entered, with a young boy in his wake whom John had never before seen.

"Mr. Thornton, I am sorry to disturb you, but this young man here has a package for you, and he told me very insistent-like he was ordered to give it to you personally!" declared his employee apologetically.

"Thank you for bringing him to me, Williams!", replied Mr. Thornton and turned to the messenger to take the small package from him. He gave the boy a coin and thanked him most kindly.

When he was alone again he opened the wrapping paper. To his astonishment the parcel contained his old leather gloves and a letter. His name was written on the envelope in an unknown hand. Unaware when and where he had lost his gloves, as he had not missed them so far, he had no clue who was the sender. Impatiently he ripped the envelope open and read the enclosed missive.

_Dear Mr. Thornton, _

_As I sit here writing you this letter, I am quite distressed that I have not had the opportunity before tonight to return your gloves to you. I am sorry that you could not come this evening to your Plato lesson with my father, because I know how much you both appreciate your weekly time together, and I do not want you to miss anything. I hope your urgent matters can be solved to your entire satisfaction. At the same time I hope your purpose is not to avoid meeting me as I am not averse to meeting you. I long for the chance to beg for your forgiveness for my impulsive and hurtful words, to make amends. _

_Since our last encounter I have had much to think over. Knowing your enjoyment of Plato I have used my time to refresh my knowledge of his wisdom, and I would very much like to discuss some of his quotations with you at any time you like. _

_There are a few particular quotes in my mind, I would like to discuss. In order not to put you at a disadvantage, I shall make known to which Plato quotations I refer:_

_ He who commits injustice is ever made more wretched than he who suffers it._

_ Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. _

_We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; _

_We are twice armed if we fight with faith._

_ There is no harm in repeating a good thing._

_ After some examination of the statements I am much inclined to say that our opinions are not so different as previously thought._

_ I look forward eagerly to hearing from you soon. _

_Yours faithfully,_

_ Margaret Hale_

Unbelievable! Margaret had written to him. Was it an olive branch to heal the breach in their acquaintance? He read the letter in order to grasp each passage thoroughly. Eventually he had memorised the words by heart. Could he dare to hope? Did it mean what he thought it could mean? Was there really a hidden message in the letter? Or did his wishful thinking mislead him? There was only one way to find out what Margaret was going to say. His heart leapt into his throat when he set out to Crampton.

ooOOoo

Margaret Hale wandered through the house, driven by an inner restlessness. All she could do now was to wait for events to follow their course. Frequently she looked to the clock. Time crept this morning. She had already calculated how long it would take to deliver the package, to read the letter, and to come to her. What was the earliest possible moment he could be with her? Did he even understand what she wanted to tell him in a roundabout way? Or had she been too bold in her letter, and he would not come? Did he hate her and would never speak to her again? Eventually Margaret stood at the window to watch the street in the direction of Marlborough Mills. If John came she would see him. It calmed her a little. After all, it is said hope dies last. She was prepared to stand the whole day by the window if it would help her cause.

As soon as possible after getting up that morning Margaret had visited her friend, Mary Higgins, with the purpose of sending the eldest Boucher boy on an errand. She had given him the package with John's gloves and her letter and had instructed him to deliver it only to Mr. Thornton personally. Just to imagine the letter fell in the wrong hands! Her reputation had already suffered enough. She had taken a great risk writing to Mr. Thornton, but she had not found another solution to approach him. Who dares wins!

There! There he was, she could see him! Mr. Thornton's tall figure towered above all other people in the street. He moved with long strides straight to her house. At the sight of him her heart skipped a beat, her breathing became shallow, and she felt pure love for him. Could her dreams come true? The tension and stress rose to an unbearable level. She hardly dared to breath.

Margaret heard the knock at the front door when she realized Dixon had left the house a half hour ago to go to the market. She was the only one who could open the door. She ran into the hall, flung open the door, and stared spellbound with wide eyes at John. An awkward moment passed until Mr. Thornton found his voice first.

"Miss Hale, I...I have received y...", before he could finish the words he had on the tip of his tongue, she threw herself into his arms. Reflexively he embraced her, as at the same time he closed the door with a kick of his foot. It was an incredible feeling to have Margaret at last in his arms, even if she was shaking with fits of crying. Soothingly he stroked her hair. Apart from that he was lost; he did not know what to do.

Between the sobs, in a barely audible whisper, she said, "I a... am sooorrry, I am so sorry. I... I love you..., forgive me, please forgive me,...John."

Those sweet words lifted a weight from his mind. "Hush, darling, hush," he tried to calm her. He inhaled deeply her sweet scent, caressed reassuringly her back with one hand, and with the other hand he held her tightly about the waist as if he would never let her go. He savoured the moment as long as possible.

After a while the tension left Margaret, her nerves calmed down, and she stood motionless in his embrace. Her head rested on his chest, his heartbeat comforting her until she was composed enough to leave his arms. Embarrassed, she looked at the floor.

John Thornton knelt down on one knee, took Margaret's hands in his, and said, "Margaret Hale, I love you. Will you marry me?"

Margaret raised her eyes to him, one single tear running down her face, and answered wholeheartedly, "Gladly, John, yes, I will!" A charming smile graced her face.

In a swift motion he stood, took her tenderly in his arms, and kissed her gently, with all the tenderness he felt for her. Time stood still for both of them, and they were blissfully unaware of their environment.

Mr. Hale came out of his study and was dumbfounded at the sight that greeted him. "What's going on here?" he asked loudly.

The only answer he received were the two joyful, blushing faces of his daughter, Margaret, and his friend, John Thornton, both looking at him with smiles all over their faces.


End file.
